


Clever and Lost

by Charlylimph



Category: Original Work, Weak Constitution: Common Cat
Genre: F/F, Fox Girl, Hurt/Comfort, Master/Pet, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Sexual Slavery, fucked up magic society
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:42:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29809974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlylimph/pseuds/Charlylimph
Summary: She is a fox, cunning and intelligent. But no one wants a bed pet that can out think them, so she hides. She hides behind a mask of complete servility and tries to make it through the day.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 25
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Weak Constitution: Common Cat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17302013) by [Awkward_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awkward_Dragon/pseuds/Awkward_Dragon). 



> This is a fanfic for the amazing work Weak Constitution: Common Cat. There was discussion about what kind of pet or familiar people would want to have or be, and well my brain worms got busy. 
> 
> I don't really know where this is going but I have some fun ideas. Lets find out together!

Pet reflected on the last year and two months, she cursed herself again and again for being so careless as to be caught. Things had been going so well. 

She had been a stray living more comfortably than almost any other stray could ever dream. Pretending to be an owned pet that got loaned out to people and then returned home to her owner of her own free will. 

But then she had met Fraxis. He was a stupid slovenly rich man who had enjoyed her so much he had wanted to buy her from her owner. That was always a risk of course, but the other few times that had happened she had managed to escape. 

She resisted the urge to sigh as she knelt at his feet while he lost at cards. 

Pet knew she was no great prize or beauty. There was nothing about her that was inherently appealing to an owner. Beautiful foxes were the ones with brilliant white coats; or a dark alluring black; even the standard red, white, and black had an obvious appeal. 

She was none of those things.

Mud. 

Her coat looked liked if you tried to make a fox, forgot what you were doing and left out half the paint, vaguely tried to mix it together, and then threw it at a wall. 

True she was small and petite, which a lot of owners liked. But that was hardly a distinguishing feature. 

And then there was her mind. But no owner ever wanted a smart pet, they got into trouble and did things like escape, which of course she had. But then all to soon she had been caught again. 

Fraxis had been delighted to discover that she was a stray, and had enjoyed breaking her in. It had been a delicate endeavor to hold out long to convince him that she was truly broken and subservient to his will, pretending that she was delicate and easily breakable so that the lie of pain was easier to bare.

Now she knelt next to his chair, her clothes clearly marking her out was a pleasure pet, a simple bit of stretchy fabric to go around her breasts, and a joke of a skirt that sat below her bushy and pretended to cover her hips. All the while he idly and drunkenly played with her hair and tweaked her ear. She hated when he did that. It made her want to flick them away from him, but that would be a pointless bit of rebellion. 

As her eyes studied the minute details and grain of the hardwood floors, she listened to the game. He had the most obvious tell even when he wasn't completely drunk, a clearing of his throat before whatever customary banter went with the hand. 

As her eyes were downcast and hidden by eyelashes she felt safe in rolling them at the idiot fool. At least when he got he would be too drunk to make any real use of her tonight. Thank goodness for small mercies she supposed. She would probably still end up chain to his bed, but honestly how was that any different that when the chains were just implied. 

The woman he played with was interesting, she laughed easily and flattered her master's ego to perfection, teasing him in just the right places so that he threw in even more of his money. She admired her skill and -

"I won't take an IOU, you know that Fax."

"Cooooome on Flory! You know I'm gu … gah … good for it!" Fraxis belches loudly.

Huh, they must know each other, god he was disgusting. 

"Lishen," Suddenly she felt herself be grabbed by the back of her metal collar and hoisted up onto her feet. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Despite her inner turmoil she managed to rise gracefully, and continued staring at the floor, lowering her lashes becomingly. If this was going to be a first impression she had better display how perfect and graceful a pleasure pet she was.

"I know sheee's not much to look at, but whenever I entertain a lady friend I am assured that she is excellent. And I KNOW you prefer females Flory." Fraxis grips his pets ass and strokes fondley down the back of her naked thigh. Though she kept up her bland subservient facade, she imagined sinking her painted claws into the tender spots in his wrist. If she did a good enough job, she knew he would bleed out right here. But such happy dreams would not find reality any time soon.

In the long silence that follows she felt this unknown woman look her up and down. Then Flaxis shoved her roughly in the middle of the back towards the woman and she almost stumbled, but managed to catch herself. Pet stands before her potential new owner, with her arms tucked politely behind her.

That slim hand reaches out and softly caresses her bare midriff and Pet twitches ever so slightly towards her at the touch. Most owners want their pleasure slave to be responsive so she risks the reaction. Then she is shoved back towards her master. 

"Maybe I will take the shirt off your back too." Flory says with a laugh. There is a moment where they haggle over how much she is worth. Pet files the information away for later, she isn’t sure sure how, but that information might be useful someday.

She stands next to her idiot master and watches him throw away the wrong cards and attempt to bluff horrendously. 

I really am going to go back with this woman.

What is the point of even trying to fool people into treating me better, when the idiot loses me with the worst hand and the most obvious tell. Ugh. Now I will have to start all over, and it seems like she is less of a moron so it will be more difficult. 

The leash attached to her collar lands on the table.

"Fine! Take her! I was getting bored of the bitch anyway." An obvious lie. It is a bit gratifying to know that he is at least a little irritated about losing her. Well, serves you right asshole.

"Bring her papers around in the morning, would you dear." Flory's tone is mocking sweetness and Pet almost wants to join in, but remembers to stay focused. 

As Flory leads her new possession out the door, Faxis speaks up. "Oh before you go, you should know. She is allergic to a lot of the kibble and other pet foods. You have to feed her meat. I just wanted to save you some unpleasantnesh." He makes a face remembering when they were still ‘figuring out’ what she was allergic to. It had been worth all the starvation and punishment to force myself to throw up any other food offered me until I got something palatable. But dammit I would not have tried that with anyone smarter than him.

Flory nods, and after she has collected her money, she leads Pet loosely by the leash through the streets. We aren't taking a carriage, interesting. 

While they walk along the street, Pet wonders what kind of person her new owner is, and ticks off the known points in her mind. 

First. A woman who likes other women. An utterly useless fact from my perspective, neither of those have any bearing on if she is the sort to maim a pet because it amuses her. 

Second. She is good at cards. Not entirely useless, this means she has more intelligence that my previous owner, but then again so is your average rock or pile of compost. Still it means I will have to be very careful. 

Third. Not only is she good at cards, but she is good at manipulating people. With a worthy opponent I will have to be very careful indeed. 

They reach their apparent destination and she leads Pet up a flight of metal stairs, taking a set of keys out of her pocket. She unlocks the door, then tosses them in a bowl just inside. Still with her new possession in tow she goes and sits one of a couple couches and the fox catches a glimpse at a large space. 

She kneels before her and settles into a perfect waiting pose, allowing her bushy tail to curl fetchingly around her legs. Of course she will want to inspect me. Pet wonders if she will wait for a vet to look her over before she takes advantage of the advertised skills, or will all that happen tonight. 

Fingers lift up her chin. It is easier to lie when not making eye contact, but not impossible. 

Pet gives her new owner slow sultry binks, and does her best to pretend that she was hit on the back of her head at some critical stage as a cub.

"Oh you are very good."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really enjoying getting to know these characters!

Pet froze, what had she done wrong, what had given it away. She didn’t have to fake terror as she quailed before her new owner, shrinking down as her eyes widened. 

“Mi - mistress … I’m sure I don't know what you mean.”

Her mistress caressed gently behind her ears.

“Very well done with the food allergy. How did you manage that? Granted I know Fax doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together, but still.” She watches her fox continue to quiver, and her hand is again slow and steady behind Pets ear. 

Pet thinks about how at least in this moment she is not in danger, but that is no guarantee about the future. She manages to get her fear under control and lean into the wonderful sensation of having her ears touched just right. Sometimes Fraxis, one of his women, or someone else had done it, but that was mostly on accident, this seemed purposeful.

“I’m not going to punish you for being clever. Honestly I don’t really need or want a bed slave, what I do need in my life, is someone clever who will keep my life interesting.

So how did you fake the allergy?”

Pet manages to get her breathing under control, and looks up, purses her lips and decides to do what she has always done. Give her current owner what they ask for.

“Pretend to be okay with the food, and then later force myself to throw it back up. I had to start with the first bit of food he gave me and continue that until he gave me actual food. I also had to drop in hints at the right spots, about my stomach hurting.”

She gives a shuddering sigh at the painful memories then continues.

“The punishments and starvation were worth it in the end.” 

Flory nods, pity in her eyes. The part of Pet that she has kept safe inside herself, buried deep enough that none of her owners were able to dig it out of her, revolts at being offered pity. She doesn’t need anyone's sympathy. But maybe that is something she can use with this owner. 

But again she must be careful, this woman will be on guard with her. Sure she said she wants a clever pet, but what does that really mean? It won’t hurt to lay those foundations, just in case. She closes her eyes and leans gratefully into her owners touch. 

She still wants to escape, but the metal collar, with its number directly linking to her ownership papers makes that impossible. Maybe this one can be convinced to be soft hearted enough to take it off. 

“Now,” Pets' eyes snap and focus on her new owner, “what is your name.” 

Her brows furrow for a moment, “I have always just been called Pet. Of course Mistress may call me anything she wishes.” Mistress’s brings both her hands up to cup her head right below the ears. Pet closes her eyes and thinks to herself, If I am not very careful I am going to fall for her, and fall hard. I can’t let that happen.

“What do you want to be called?” 

She frowned again and looked up at her Mistress. Even when she was a stray she had mostly just gone by Pet to make the masquerade of being owned by some fictitious person easier to act out. She twitched uncertainly in her masters grip. It was hard to keep eye contact for so long, she risked it and closed her eyes, and enjoyed the touch from this person who for at least the moment didn’t want to use or abused her.

A name. A name that actually describes me, not just my utility as a bed pet. That … that gentle scritching at my eyes is very distracting. Well she seems to want honesty, nothing for it I guess.

She opens her eyes and looks up at her Owner.

“I don’t know. Would my Mistress mind if I took some time to think about it?”   
“That’s fine, take as much time as you need. But names are convenient, so don’t take too long.” Pet nods eagerly, and her Mistresses fingers continue their slow gentle circle at the base of her ears. “The other thing we need to talk about is rules.” Pet perks her ears, this will all be vital to know, she will do whatever she has to do to make sure that this woman who seems so kind continues to like her, and treat her well.

“I don’t want you crawling around and groveling. In my home you walk on your feet. I already have a chef and someone who comes in once a day to tidy and clean, I don’t know if that was required of you before, but I won’t. 

The kitchen is always open to you. You can eat with me, or on your own it's up to you. You are allowed the full run of the house, go anywhere you feel like, whenever you like.

Tomorrow we will get you clothes that actually merit the word, and start to figure out more permanent sleeping arrangements, since I wasn’t exactly expecting you.”

Flory watched her new foxes brow furrow with each thing she didn’t need to do, and each rule that had governed every aspect of her life be flung out the window into the endless blue sky.

Pet felt lost. She already said she doesn't want a bed pet, and she doesn’t seem to want anything else, so why is she keeping me? If she was just going to sell me on she wouldn't bother with clothes. But no, she said she wanted someone interested in her life. I can do that probably, but what kind of interesting? How am I supposed to know what she wants, if she won’t tell me?!

“Shhhh,” Mistress’s soft voice breaks her out of her thought spiral as she guesses at the cause of her pets turmoil, “I want to see what your mind does, after you have stopped trying to solve me, and figure out the best way to keep me from hurting you.” Pet can’t help flinching in her Mistresses hands at the mention of hurting her. She curses herself for her loss of control, and wonders if this nice treatment right now is all just a trick so she can have the fun of destroying her will later. 

Fraxis had whored her out to more than one client like that, he hadn’t cared what happened to her as long as she came back with no permanent marks. With the last one Fraxis had pretended to sell her. The man bought her; gone through this whole routine, promising her good treatment, food, and gentle sex. 

They had spent all that day at the park, eating a picnic lunch in the sun, then going on a long walk in the woods. It had been idyllic. 

Then they were back at his house, and the sun was down. He kept her for days in his bed, and basement. She never saw the sun again, not until she was dumped as a broken sobbing wreck on Fraxis door step. He only beamed down at her and asked,

“Did you have a good time Pet?”

“wha..” She realized someone was holding her around the shoulders and she jerked away. Looking around frantically, she saw her Mistress was kneeling next to her, face full of concern and worry. 

Mistress should not be on her knees. No, that was all wrong. Pet didn’t know what had happened, but she was sure she could fix it. Without a seconds hesitation she folded herself into a perfectly graceful bow. Her forehead resting on the cool floor was like a balm to nerves that were fraying from being in a new situation, and trying to figure out a whole new person.

There was a sigh from above her, “This is going to be harder than I thought.” That calm hand reached down and began stroking her ear again.

Wait, what had she down wrong? Her bow had been perfect she knew, so it must have been before that. Of course she had zoned out and perhaps even mumbled something. It had been long enough that her mistress had time to get down on her knees. Why she would do that Pet still didn’t know. 

Her Mistresses words found her again, “are safe here. There will be no punishments from me ever. Do you understand?” Mistress gripped her chin and pulled Pets eyes up to look into her own.

She didn’t understand, but nodded anyway. The mental gymnastics required to even begin explaining what she didn’t understand didn’t bare thinking about.

“Okay, well I need to drink some water. Then we both need sleep. I have a spare bedroom that you can use for tonight if you want it. Where do you want to sleep?”

There were too many choices, giving her a choice implied other options than the spare bed. But what did that mean? Right now Pet would have been perfectly happy to curl up on the floor at the foot of her Mistress’s bed as she had done with Fraxis, but she sensed that answer would displease her new Mistress.

Finally she managed to select the spare bed as that was the only option provided. She didn’t know where else her Mistress would think appropriate since she didn’t want a bed slut.

“Alright then, come on, we will get you situated the best we can for now.” 

As Pet follows her new Mistress she at least has a chance to think about her physical appearance. Taller than her, but then everyone is taller than a female fox. She supposed Mistress was pretty enough, but what was most intriguing was her confidence. She walked as if the world would bow before her even in her own home.

This whole house seemed to be on a single level above the large building below them, so it took some time to get to their destination. 

Finally Flory opened a door and led Pet into a cavernous room. There was an absolutely enormous bed, Pet shuddered at the memory of some of the times her services had been required on a bed that size. A dresser next to it and another room that seemed to lead into a wash closet. 

Flory went over to the dresser and pulled out a set of night clothes and laid them out. “You can wear them if you want too, the pants probably won’t fit, but we can order ones that will. I will fill up this pitcher for you. Give me a moment.”

Pet was still too stunned to think about anything, but nodding to her Mistress at the appropriate points. Then she left. On an errand for her pet. None of this made any sense. If her Mistress had simply demanded service or even chained her to the foot of the bed she would have been fine.

But this.

This was new and different. She felt unmoored from reality with no firm footing or rules to guide her. Well her Mistress had wanted her to try on the night clothes as odd as that was. Even if it wasn't an order it was still a task.

She just tossed the last of her clothes on the floor and was reaching for the night shirt when the door opened again and heard her Mistress speak.

“Oh, sorry.” 

Pet turned and dropped gracefully into the waiting pose with her hand resting lightly on her knees, palms up, and eyes cast respectfully down to the floor. The time where she was embarrassed by nudity was long past. She heard her Mistress' steps, then the pitcher was set down on the dresser next to the bed.

Again her chin was gripped and she was forced to bring her eyes up to meet those of her Mistress. “I don’t want you bowing to me in my own home. I understand that you will sometimes have to do that outside, but you are NOT to do it inside the house. Understand?” While soft her voice was commanding. 

This was an order, even if it was one that was going to be hard to follow. Pet had spent hours and days practicing her bows, so that they were graceful and perfect. Not doing that in the presence of her Mistress was going to be difficult.

“Remember you are allowed to move around however you like, and I want you to think of a name. Good night, I will see you in the morning.” Then she just left, and Pet was left there on her knees confused and unsure of what to do next.

First, night clothes, that decision had been easier than she thought it would be. The pants were obviously not going to work, but the shirt looked more than long enough to make up for it, and she was right. It did not really matter if the pants fit when a shirt came down to her knees anyway, and this way nothing fouled her tail. 

Now to the problem of the bed. It was too large for her to possibly be comfortable, there was too much space, she was too exposed. With a shudder she tried to figure out a better solution. 

Mistress had said that she could go anywhere, and she had seemed to want to give her a choice in sleeping arrangements. Pet eyed the corner of the bed near the dresser, that was a promising idea. Before long the bed was missing several pillows and throw blankets, and Pet had herself a den. A far better den than the one she had managed to tuck into a disused closet next Fraxis very dusty sports equipment. 

She took a long drink of the water and admired her hard work. If her Mistress didn’t like it, that was a problem for tomorrow. After curling up and tucking her nose comfortingly into her tail she thought about the last problem her Mistress had given her. This one, much harder than anything else.

She needed a name.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in the middle of the night. Enjoy my midnight ramblings at your peril!

Pet snuggled further down into her constructed bed and thinks about a name. Even if her Mistress is just playing with her to be all the more cruel later, she was going about it very strangely. So she was left with no option but to make her Mistress at face value. 

So she stared into the night and thought, slowly turning each idea over in her mind examining it for flaws. 

Something about her looks? No. Mud was hardly an attractive name. 

Something she liked? What does she even like? 

She thought of a day when she was a cub, long before she began her career as a bed slut. Her Owners were having tea in the park and it had started to rain, after everything was moved to a covered area and the party resumed. After that no one had bothered with the small fox cub who was only meant to to help set out the beautiful food anyway. 

She had nibbled on a stolen bread crest and curled up in an invisible corner out of sight of absolutely everyone. The rain had poured down drowning out all the other sounds and it had been easy to pretend that she was the only person in the world.

Granted she hated the wet, but the sound had been wonderful. Then long after her crust had disappeared the sun broke through the clouds. It was glorious to watch the world come alive back again in bits and pieces, and the smell that accompanied it all.

True she hated the wet, but that smell was a promise. Light was already there, and warmth would follow. That smell was a promise. 

Petrichor, the smell of wet dirt after a rain, a lovely smell. It was a promise to herself she would find her own sunshine and warmth. Even if this was all a trick and she went back to Fraxis, she would not sit idly by again while Fraxis continued to hurt her. 

If he took her back, there would be some sort of mysterious illness that he just never managed to recover from. She would work out the details if necessary, but for now at least, she had a name.

Petrichor. That was a very good name.

All of the thinking and remembering had been exhausting. Petrichor finally stopped staring into the black and closed her eyes. For the first time in longer than she would have cared to think about sleep was actually restful. 

********

In the morning Flory entered the guest bedroom after a quiet knock and stopped. Had the new pet wandered off in the night? Or maybe she was just so small that the covers hid her entirely. She looked so small even in that dingy bar, that Flory had wanted to protect and hold her. Normally she didn’t take Fax for all the money she could, but this time he had brought his pet with him.

Watching his casually and almost constant little cruelties had made her blood boil. It had been annoying to spend the rest of the evening working him up to offering her the pet. But it had been well worth it.

She had just planned to take the poor thing from Fax and pass her on to a friend she trusted to note be cruel. But there had been something about her, an occasion tiny clench of her fist as they played that made her wonder if there was more going on in that head that the blank thoughts of a broken in bed pet. 

She had been almost certain that the thing was following the card game by the end, and then the brilliant ruse of the food allergy. Flory had never heard of a pet pulling something like that off. 

At the very least it showed that she was not completely broken, and was just the sort of clever, sneaky person Flory would get along well with. 

If she could find her again any way. 

Flory walked towards the bed and noticed some of the pillows and blankets were missing, that was odd. If she had run off in the night she hardly expected her to take those things with her.

Then she noticed the corner of one of the brightly colored blankets poking out from under the bed next to the dresser. After kneeling down, she saw what might actually be the cutest thing to ever exist. 

The fox had made a nest and curled up in the middle of it with her tail tucked over her nose. The voluminous nightshirt did nothing to hinder the cuteness of the scene. 

Flory considered how she should wake the sleeping fox. Finally she settled on going back to the door and shutting it harder than necessary before calling out loudly.

“Hello? Are you in here?”

***********

Petrichor heard the door shut and her Mistress’s voice, her eyes snapped open in panic and she scrambled out of her den. Foolish how could she have been so brazen?! Well to apologize now was to admit fault. Should she admit fault?

She somehow managed to get her claws stuck in the hem of the nightshirt and heard it rip as she stood up, even as her knees twitched with the urge to kneel. She winced, and waited for the backhanded blow that would begin her punishment for destroying one of her Mistresses possessions, folding her arms up behind her so no one could claim she was trying to defend herself from the blow.

The blow never came, instead her Mistress leaned past her to look into the little den she had made. 

“That looks comfortable. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes Mistress, and you did say I could sleep wherever I wanted to.” 

“Yes, I did. Well done.”

Well done? What had she done well? Be bold enough to make a den? Maybe that is what her Mistress wanted? Boldness.

If that was the case why did she seem to want to keep a fox? The way she talked last night made it sound like she was going to be here with Mistress a while.

“I came in to say that breakfast is ready, if you want some. After that we can start to figure out clothes.”

Mistress turns to leave and Petrichor guesses that she is supposed to keep the nightshirt on, then follows after. There are two plates set at one end of the large dining room table. Every room in this place seemed to be of cavernous proportions. How could Mistress stand having all this space around her?

Then she was presented with the puzzle of food. Her Mistress sat down, took off the cover and began eating. Obviously she was meant to sit at the table and eat as well. But how should she sit? Even if she sat like Mistress, her feet wouldn't reach the floor and that was uncomfortable. She had been forbidden to kneel. Crossing her legs as she sat would have to do.

With trembling fingers she lifted the lid and didn’t find the exact copy of her Mistress meal she had expected. There were essentially a few bites of every breakfast food imaginable. She stared and didn’t know what to think. 

Her Mistress broke through her confused thoughts with an explanation. “I didn’t know what you would like so basically had the cook make a little of everything. He was a little annoyed with me, but eh” Mistress shrugged her shoulders. 

She had inconvenienced a human for her, it was almost too much to bare. Mechanically she picked up the fork and dutifully sampled everything. Predictable anything that was meat was her favorite. 

Once the food hit her stomach it was easier to think. Mistress had asked her to pick out a name. When all the food she could manage was eaten, which was not even half the contents of the plate, she delicately set down her fork. 

“Mistress.”

“Yes?”

“You asked me to choose a name. I have chosen Petrichor.” She waited with bated breath. What if Mistress didn’t like it?

“Petrichor, I think that is an excellent name. Now the next thing is clothes. We will figure out how to get you presentable where some of mine, then go from there. Okay?”

Petrichor nodded, still very confused. She was supposed to wear the Mistresses clothes? Although it stood to reason that if she didn’t want a muddy bed slut she wouldn't want a pet dressed like one either. In the end she decided not to worry about her Mistresses strange habits and preferences unless she got mean.

Mistress Flory was just rummaging through the sort of closet that was a room all on its own, when there was a chime at the door. 

“Ah, that will be Fraxis with your papers. Stay here.”

As she left Petrichor felt her freeze. 

She tucked her knees under her chin and listened twitching her ears so as to catch each little bit of sound.

It did not sound like Fraxis had brought her papers.

“I was drunk! You can’t hold that against me!” She quailed at his voice, it was only a small comfort that he seemed to be far away.

“Can and …” Mistress was speaking too softly for it to carry like his voice but she still caught the odd word.

“Listen you don’t understand, I can’t afford to lose the income I get from the muddy slut.”

“... can’t … lose … from me... always someone else ... loose morals ... take ... money."

There was another exchange of words and more shouting, then the front door slammed. Petrichor quivered as she felt her Mistresses' footsteps return. 

“Petrichor.” Her Mistresses voice was soft and comforting. “It’s going to be okay.” Petrichor feels that firm warm hand on her shoulder, and looks up at her Mistress. Her golden amber eyes wide, in suppressed fear.”

“I own you now, you aren't going back.” Mistress seemed to want a response so she nodded, and tried not to bury her face in her knees all over again.

“Would you like to go shopping for clothes and whatever else strikes your fancy in a little bit, when we have the shakes all worked out of you?”

Petrichor nodded again.  
“Good,” With a last squeeze on her shoulders Mistress smiles, “now come help me figure out clothes for you. I know I have a skirt that will work.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write fluff to make myself feel better. I don't think I am doing this correctly. Also it is the middle of the might, if you want to read the edited version of this with more commas and all the words I probably forgot wait until the marrow!

Her Mistress seemed to have very firm opinions on fashion and was determined to make her into something that she considered presentable from her existing wardrobe. Petrichor was not particularly familiar with what was considered fashionable, but she had to concede that the long swishy black skirt that Mistress altered to accommodate her tail, white shirt with grey design, and brown belt did look good on her.

As Petrichor enjoyed the feeling of fabric swishing around her ankles, her Mistress stood back and rubbed her chin thoughtful. 

“Petrichor,” Immediately she turned all of her attention to her Mistress, her ears high and alert, “it is very sunny out today, and I think a hat would look very cute with that outfit. If we can find that does not irritate your ears would you want to wear one?” 

She had never been fond of hats for exactly that reason. But her Mistress was being so kind, asking if she wanted to wear something and only if it didn’t annoy her. How could she say no?

“Yes, that seems okay Mistress.” And it would all be worth it just because the warm smile her Mistress gave Petrichor then made her knees melt. She had the strange urge to hug her Mistress. Since she had never actually wanted to touch an owner before, she felt very odd. Fortunately her Mistress didn’t notice the awkward twisting of her hands as she opened the doors to yet another closet inside this closet. This one was entirely full of hats, each carefully on display. 

Her Mistress picked up a wide sun colored straw hat and considered it for a moment, set it down on a side table.

“I will be right back.” As she left Petrichor looked at the hat nervously. It didn’t look at all like it would be comfortable, but Mistress had said that she would find one that didn’t irritate her. 

So she waited.

Petrichor hadn’t really let herself think about her Mistress yet.

Her actions were so confusing. She kept asking Petrichor what she wanted, what kind of food, where to sleep, what she wanted to wear. Her name.

It was almost completely overwhelming, but just as Petrichor thought she was going to start crying from all the choices she had already been given, her Mistress came bustling back. She was carrying a very sharp small knife, scissors, and a cutting board. She set all the tools down then picked up the hat and held it over Petrichors ears, and bit her lip in concentration. 

The expression gave Petrichor the mad desire to giggle, but she managed to contain herself. Then her Mistress went about carefully murdering the straw hat, cutting out holes that would probably fit her ears. She didn’t seem to mind casually mutilating her possessions for Petrichor, and as much as she wanted to stop her. What her Mistress wanted to do with her clothes, and her pet was none of Petrichors business.

When the holes seemed more than large enough Mistress handed her the hat.

“There! Try that on and look in the mirror. It's okay if you don’t like it.” She seemed almost nervous, as if she really was concerned what her pet thought about the clothes that had been chosen for her. That line of thinking immediately stopped when she caught sight of herself.

She ran her hands over the long silky fabric draped around her legs and admired the sight of the person who was still small and cute, but definitely did not look like a pleasure pet. Mistress was right, even the hat looked good on her. 

Petrichor flicked and ear experimentally and was delighted to see it twitch in the brim. As long as she wasn't extravagant with her ear movements, she didn't think this would be uncomfortable at all. 

When she spun around she saw her Mistress beaming at her happily and clapped in pleasure. 

“Oh my goodness! You look so adorable!” 

Petrichor ducked her head, and was grateful for how extremely well the brim of the hat hid her blush. But somehow managed, “Thank you, my Mistress is too kind.” 

“No I’m not. Now wait in the bedroom while I change.” 

Petrichor waited as instructed and had difficulty not constantly touching the clothes she had been dressed in. It was strange to be wearing garments that other people might wear, not the facsimile of regular attire that had been her lot ever since she was old enough to be desirable that way. 

Just knowing that she didn’t look like what she had been trained her entire life to do was disorienting. Again that sense of being unmoored and lost gripped her. Petrichor just wished that her Mistress would tell her what she wanted from her. Not knowing what she needed to do to be a good pet was the worst part.

After a few minutes she heard her Mistress call her back, and rushed back to her side. She was confronted by the sight of her Mistress in a knee length red dress, with her long black hair curled and pinned at the base of her neck. She seemed to be holding up a pair of sandals and considering something.

“I think cutting these down to fit you would work, don’t you.” 

Petrichor faltered, and could not help being taken aback by her Mistress continuing habit of destroying her own clothes for her pet. “My … my Mistress may do what she wishes.” 

Mistress only shrugs and begins industriously destroying another article of clothing.

Once her Mistress had deemed her sufficiently clothed, they left by the metal stairs they had entered only the night before. That had seemed like a dream to Petrichor, everything still felt like a dream.

She was wearing clothes, and she had a name. This had to be a dream.

Why would the dream version of her Mistress apologize, and say that before they went and did fun stuff, would Petrichor be okay if her Mistress did some work first? That was not how dreams were supposed to go. The pavement under her feet was too real even as the events continued on in their monotonous unreality. 

When they entered through the ground floor door next to the stair, they were greeted by a smiling person behind a desk. She exuded unrelenting cheerfulness.

“Ah, yes! Ms. Florentine, you will be happy to know that we have resolved the issue with the wine vendor, and Fredrick is digging around in his desk for the thumbscrews today so that the caterers will get their shit together.”

“Excellent! That is exactly what I wanted to hear. Do you have any word on whether we will be able to get that bastard, Tormine?”

“He is in the middle of one of his snits.”

“I had better go unruffle his feathers. We only have a few weeks.”

“If you don’t manage to unpretzel him, let me know while I still have enough time to find a replacement.”

With that Mistress nodded then turned, and Petrichor automatically followed her out the door. That conversation had been dizzying to follow. 

First. There was an event. The event was a few weeks away.

Second. She needed something from Tormine. 

Petrichor wondered if the only half overheard shouting match from this morning had anything to do with the event that she had just heard discussed. Mistress had said something about someone always being willing to take her money. That was interesting, not immediately useful, but interesting. She realized belatedly that her Mistress had not bothered with the leash, she was supposed to be on a leash. But perhaps her Mistress didn’t care about such things.

“Now Petrichor, do you even want to try wearing pants? We could try but especially with the fur you have on your extremities, it does not seem like they would be comfortable.”

“My Mistress is wise as always. I do think I would prefer skirts, if Mistress chooses to give me the option.”

“You have known me for less than a day. How could you possibly know if I am wise or not?”

“I- …” Mistress was right. There was no good way to answer that. Well she wanted the truth every other time … “My Mistress is good at cards, and skilled at playing on the emotions of people.” 

“You are right, but that makes me clever and manipulative, not wise.” Then after a brief pause while they continued walking. “In a few weeks I am going to be hosting a party of sorts. I would like it if you were at that party being your clever observant self. Do you think you can pull off being nearly invisible and observant?”

Petrichor ducked her head in acknowledgement. It was not what she had been trained to do, that didn’t make it any more difficult.

“Yes Mistress, is there anything I should pay attention to in particular?”

“Not at the moment,” and with a sideways grin that nearly melted Petrichor's insides, “but if you think anyone is up to something nefarious please let me know discreetly.”

They seemed to reach their destination and, Mistress sighed. “Business before pleasure I guess.” Then pounded on a rickety looking door. “Tor! I know you are in there Tor!” 

There was a scrambling inside, then a rail thin man with a shock of pink and green hair on the top of his head that fluttered about in his agitation, answered the door. 

“Oh hi Flory, I uh wasn’t expecting you …” He seemed to trail off nervously.

“What is this I hear about not having something ready in time?”

“Oh right of course, um you see. I just can’t seem to find the inspiration. I keep trying but nothing turns out like how it is supposed to.”

Mistress only stands in this person's doorway with her arms crossed staring this poor man down. His eyes cast around, and seek to look anywhere but at her Mistress, and then seem to catch sight of Mistresses new pet.

“What a darling pet you have! I didn’t know you had a pet! Oh my goodness! I love the ears through her hat. That gives me an idea!”

The door is unceremoniously slammed in Mistresses face. Petrichor expects her to be furious, but she only turns away, her shoulders shaking with contained laughter.

“Artists are the worst. Come on now it’s time to go shopping!”

The day did not get any less strange. They went to a dozen different stores, and although her Mistress seemed to buy a few items for herself, but most of the clothes and accessories were bought for Petrichor.

The dizzying array of people who took her measurements, from the tops of her ears to the tips of her claws made her head spin. Different fabrics were presented to Mistress and herself for approval, she wasn’t sure what could have possibly been wrong with the ones her Mistress rejected. But she tried not to think about that as she concentrated on keeping sane while people fused over her. Being the center of attention had never meant good things for her in the past, and near the end of the day she had to grip her palm and feel the slight and centering pain of her claws to keep from breaking down entirely. Her Mistress never even bothered to carry shopping bags, she simply instructed every store to have the clothes delivered. 

Shoes, skirts, tops, hats, accessories. It was all too much.

Petrichor had managed to request that her Mistress let her shop for some cosmetics to make herself more presentable, if her Mistress desired. Privately she thought the dull silver paint for her claws matched her fur very well.

When they finally returned home, Petrichor was indeed ready to curl up into a ball and sleep. But now the clothes that were set to arrive that day were all sitting in an intimidating pile in the front room. It was difficult to keep herself from sighing with exhaustion or irritation. 

With her hands on her hips her Mistress surveyed the mountain of packages that were apparently all for Petrichor.

“I think before we deal with where to put your clothes we should finally settle on your sleeping arrangements. Now, you could keep sleeping in that spare bedroom, but I would really prefer it if you slept somewhere in mine. You of course don’t need to sleep in the bed with me, but we can make a little cozy hole like what you built last night anywhere you like.”

Mistress paused and seemed to want an answer from Pretrichor, “That sounds very nice.” It all felt unreal. She didn’t know what to do, or what to think. Just as the unreality was failing to set in there was a knock at the door. 

“Ah yes. Petrichor, please go wait in my room while I deal with this.”

Knowing that he was here, that some part of her mind told her he might still be here to take her back even after everything her Mistress had done for her today. Mistress had bought clothes that would fit no one else, ordered clothes to be made that would fit no one else. 

Petrichor kicked her feet and waited, while trying not to fall through the sea of her own mind. There was no shouting this time. The silence was almost worse.

When her Mistress finally returned to her, Petrichor looked up and met her eyes. She did not realize she had been crying. 

“Oh darling,” Hearing her Mistresses voice so full of concern for her the muddy bed slut, who was not even that anymore just made it all so much worse. “Darling, it’s okay. He's gone for good.” Those words only made her cry harder. 

None of this was real. It all had to be the best and worst dream she and ever had.

“Petrichor, may I touch you?” 

She could only nod numbly. If this were a dream, she wanted the Mistress in her dream to do … something. She didn’t know what. 

The hat was whisked off Petrichor’s head and she was picked up in her Mistresses arms. She sat down on the floor with her mud pet in her arms, softly stroking that spot right at the base of her ears. 

“Listen, I don’t know what’s wrong right now. But you are never going back to him. Do you understand?” Petrichor somehow managed to nod numbly again. “And tomorrow we are going and getting that damned metal collar off.”

Reality finally broke and Petrichor broke with it.


	5. Chapter 5

Petrichor curled in on herself. Her Mistress was holding her. That was all wrong. She wanted to tell her to stop. A pet didn’t deserve things like this. Her Mistress was doing this all wrong. Owners were not supposed to hold pets like this. 

But she could not deny how good this felt. 

To be held. To be touched so kindly, and in a way that made it obvious she was not going to used. On top of it all and most shamefully she was sobbing into her Mistresses dress. She was malfunctioning, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Why would anyone want to keep a pet that broke when you dressed it like a doll, and were kind to it. She must be even more fragile than she thought, if some stupid clothes was all it took to break her. After everything she had endured, it was the thought of having clothes that brought her crashing down. Shattered her into tiny shards in her Mistress's lap.

Eventually she was dragged out of these thoughts by the gentle rocking of her body; delicate fingers combing through the fur at her ears; and the calm, soothing voice of her Mistress. 

“Shhhhh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Her Mistress repeated that over and over again. She must have been saying it for a long time, because by the time Petrichor heard her, it sounded like a mantra or a prayer. The slow gentle voice, and touch accompanied Petrichor's now much quieter snuffling as she slowly gained control of her breathing. 

“You shouldn’t hold me like this, it’s not right.” She knew her Mistress would disagree, but voicing some of her turmoil seemed like the only way out of the prison her mind was constructing for itself. Mistress snorted at the idea, and held her even tighter.

“I know this is a lot all at once. It was probably pretty careless and thoughtless of me to do so much so quickly. But,” She looks away sheepishly, “you really did need clothes.” After another big breath Mistress continues speaking to her entranced pet. “I know I got a little carried away today. 

There are going to be some more changes, but I will try to be more considerate going forward.”

Mistress apologizing, and talking about being considerate almost broke her all over again. But she managed to hold herself together enough to manage, “My Mistress is too kind.”

“I’m sorry. I know I just said I would stop changing things so fast, but I really can’t have you calling me ‘Mistress’ all the time. I know you will have to at some point, but I don’t have to like it. Please call me Flory.”

How was she supposed to be a good pet when her Mistress kept throwing out the rules that had kept her safe?

She indulged herself a little and burrowed just a little further into her Mistresses hold. If Mistress was going to be foolish about rules, it was probably okay that Petrichor was too.

“I will try Mis - … F- flory. I will try.” Petrichor was embarrassed, but for some reason she wasn’t worried about her Mistress punishing her. That was a strange feeling.

“Now your sleeping arrangements for tonight. You can sleep under the spare bed if you want. But I have an idea if you are willing.” Petrichor could only nod numbly, sure was sure it would be fine. Her Mistress was being so careful with her.

When she thought about it, that was the root of her problem. She was being careful with her pet. Would being owned by a Mistress this nice be so bad if she kept being this nice?

“Good.” and Flory stood up and set her pet back on her feet. “There is a sort of window seat that I usually use for reading on lazy sunny days. Come take a look.”

Petrichor dutifully followed her Mistress … Flory. That would take some getting used too. 

Her Mistress twisted her fingers together and seemed nervous as she showed the cushioned bench to Petrichor. 

“and we can put whatever stuff you end up having in the cubbies below the bench, where I currently keep books and useless knick knacks. Do … do you like it?” 

It was unsettlingly adorable how nervous her Mistress was about what her pet thought of her idea. The cushion looked wonderfully comfortable, although she wasn’t certain about sleeping next to a window. 

She caressed the fabric delicately with her fingers and claws, it felt soft but stable under her touch. Pushing down revealed it to be every bit as comfortable as any mattress, and Petrichor smiled. If her Mistress was going to be so generous, they could make this work. 

She curled up on the bench and looked out through the paned glass window down into the darkened street below. It had begun to rain lightly, and the gentle patter of rain on glass was soothing to her nerves. Petrichor felt the cushion shift as her Mistress sat down next to her, then leaned against the wall. After a long silent moment she felt her Mistress's hand resting lightly on her shoulder.

It was a quiet moment. A moment that seemed to stretch for a blissful eternity. 

An eternity that let her turn the events of the last few days over in her mind. Fraxis, who already seemed like a distant nightmare, and not a reality that she had lived with for more than a year. The card game, and how skillfully her Mistress had played. That first conversation, and all of her initial fear. Being allowed to choose her own sleeping arrangements. Choosing a name. 

Then today with its pile of confusing things.

It was true that if she was just going to go back, her Mistress was playing the game all wrong. If she actually took off the collar, then Petrichor might start to believe her. The only reason she had never escaped Fraxis had been the collar. She had always thought about it, fantasized about running away, and wondered if she could pull the same trick even with a metal collar. But no, it had always been too risky.

If she had been caught, she would have been returned. Petrichor had no doubt that he was the sort of man who would be perfectly willing to permanently maim a disobedient pet to keep them from repeating the incident.

She shuddered at some of the pets she had met that had things like that done to them, then felt the light touch of her Mistress gripped her shoulder for a moment.

Then there was her Mistress, she had always dreamed of escaping. But her Mistress had already fed her better food than she could have ever gotten on the street, and it seemed like she met to keep doing that. She had clothed her and was obviously not content with Petrichor only having a few garments. No, Petrichor had to be dressed in a dizzying amount of fashionable clothes. Then there was this bench … bed … den nonsense. 

Petrichor honestly didn’t know what else she could have asked for in life. Some distant part of her mind shouted that she wanted freedom. 

Freedom to do what? Whore herself out, and be hungry half the time? 

What did freedom as a stray get her that her current Mistress did not?

The ability to go wherever she chooses of course. But where would she go?

If the collar came off, she could start to think about freedom, but until then it was all theoretical.

On top of it all she still didn’t know why her Mistress wanted a pet. Well it didn’t seem like her Mistress was the punishing sort …

“Mistress …” Damnit! She had messed it up already. Petrichor tried again. “F-flory, um … why do you want a pet?”

Her Mistress thought about the question for a while.

"Because you have proven yourself an interesting and resourceful person already. Because I think I will enjoy your company, and I hope you will enjoy mine." 

Her Mistress wanted a companion of sorts. That was okay. She could do that. She had been a companion before, when she was small and cute. Long before her career as a bed warmer and pleasure pet started.

It had been like being a living stuffed animal for the little girl she had belonged to. That had been a happy pleasant time. But then the girl had gotten bored of her, so the happy time had ended. 

Petrichor hoped her Mistress wouldn't get bored of her. 

The rest of the evening was quite as her Mistress helped her make the window bench into a den. She mentioned something about curtains, that would certainly help. 

There was food, which Petrichor was sure was delicious. But she was too tired to think about food. After dinner her Mistress sat in what was obviously her favorite chair and read a book. Petrichor curled up next to her and dozed peacefully. It had been a very long day.

*******

The next day dawned bright against the window of her new den. It felt strange to have a space that belonged to her, not some disused corner that she had stolen to hide in.

Petrichor yawned and stretched, arching her back and flexing her fingers. She noticed that while her Mistress must have put her to bed she didn't change her into night clothes. She wasn't sure if this was strange or not.

After another good yawn she got up and went in search of her Mistress. Just as she reached the front room a stocky man was just leaving through the front door. He waved at Petrichor jovially before closing the door. 

She was too stunned to wave back, and before she could think about the strange man anymore, her Mistress spotted her.

"Ah! Good morning Petrichor! You are right on time, breakfast is just ready. Come up and have a seat." 

She nodded dutifully and climbed onto the chair next to her Mistress. Today's meal included all her favorites from yesterday. 

Petrichor's mouth watered at the thought of getting to eat all of those delicious foods again, and took just a moment to savor the memory and her immediate future. As she ate breakfast it was difficult to imagine growing used to eating hot fresh meat, part of her hoped she never did, so that things would taste this good forever.

“Slow down! Don’t inhale it!” Flory laughed, then continued, “I will still be there if you take smaller slower bites, and there is more if you want some, just in case.”

Petrichor nodded sheepishly, and did her best to have proper table manners. Slowing down let her savor the food longer, and that definitely wasn’t a bad thing.

“We have one errand to do today, and then our time is our own.” Petrichor nodded again, then blushed when her Mistress went on, “And you need to change out of the clothes from yesterday. Come on I will show you which drawers and closets are yours.” 

Her Mistress was never going to let her get used to having clothes of her own. Eventually with only a little encouragement from her Mistress she chose a light bluish grey dress. It fitted her perfectly, and actually looked okay against her light grey and red fur that covered much of her arms, legs, the sides of her torso, and the back of her neck. Shoes also felt strange, but in the same way as the food, it was a good strange.

After they left the house, Petrichor dared a question. “Mistress, where are we going?”

“It’s Flory, remember?” and without giving Petrichor time to sputter out an apology she went on. “We are going to get that collar taken off you.”

Petrichor almost stumbled, and hoped her Mistress, no Flory, hadn’t noticed. She was actually going to do it. She had owned her for less than three days, and she was going to take the collar off. She had said she would, but Petrichor had never quite believed her. Even now she was not really sure if she believed her Mistress. 

It's okay. I can do this. She had wanted the collar off for so long why did the idea of its absence terrify her now. No, it wasn’t the absence of the collar. It was going back to that horrible place. 

She shuddered at the memory, but managed to hold herself together on the walk that felt much longer than it should. 

She was fine until the smell hit her nose. Hot metal. Burning fur. Grease. Unwashed men. Dust mixed with hot ash. 

Tears.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get some fluff, and you get some fluff! Fluff for everyone!!!

Petrichor knew that humans thought that if tears had a smell, they would all smell the same.

Petrichor knew better. 

The smell of tears from pain hit her first, sharp like acid. Then the scent from tears of fear; a pongient, cloying scent. Last and worst of all was the dull throbbing background of tears shed in despair. 

She tries to move her feet, tries to take a step. The dust of the cobbles has gripped her ankles, the heat in her nose clouds her mind. Finally her Mistress notices that Petrichor is no longer following her. She felt the shame of failing to follow her kind Mistress. 

It should be simple. Just lift her foot. Lift her foot, and push it forward. 

But right now that felt about as possible as swimming across the ocean with a rock tied to her waist.

She felt her Mistresses hands on her shoulders, she was turned, then found herself in a side alley. Her Mistress was holding her tight, arms encircled her.

At least this time she wasn't sobbing.

“It's going to be okay.”

Mistresses voice was calm and imploring, “Petrichor, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I will try.” She didn’t feel like she could manage calling her Flory right now, it felt safer to not use a title or name at all. After a few steadying, shuddering breaths, she tried to explain the awful smell that even now was rolling over her in waves, trying to steal her reason again.

Her Mistress listened patiently to Petrichor stumble through a rambling explanation of all the smells that had ripped her out of her mind. This was made easier by the gentle caresses on her ears and fingers combing through her light red hair. It was easier to speak about her terror while her Mistress continued to hold her. 

Petrichor was glad that her Mistress did not seem to mind that her new pet malfunctioned constantly. After she had managed to give voice to much of her terror, even if it was all garbled and not in the right order, it did feel better. Her mind felt lighter. 

She sighed and leaned into her Mistresses shoulder, she still seemed to be clutching her Mistresses waist. Petrichor would have tried to pull away, but her Mistress was still holding her, and running her fingers through Petrichors hair. So it would have been rude to withdraw.

After another few quiet moments in this dingy alley, her Mistress pushed her away, and gripped her by the shoulders, “We are going to do this together. It will be over quickly. Then we are going to go home, and I am going to pamper the fuck out of you. Okay?” 

Petrichor took a deep steadying breath then looked her Mistress in the eye. The calm level gaze of her Mistress was even more buoying than her words. She could do this. She was strong enough to do this. It was going to be okay. 

It was going to be okay. 

The refrain of her Mistresses words nestled into her mind, a comfort next to the terror. She was still afraid, but it would not rule her. She was Petrichor, and she could do this.

Petrichor squared her shoulders then nodded firmly. She breathed deep of the mixed scent that had frozen her before, and walled that terror off in her mind. 

While her Mistress argued with the proprietor, Petrichor stood behind her quietly, and counted the number of flagstones that made up the shop floor. 

“I understand what you want Miss. But are you sure it’s wise? Especially people with foxes usually want a really solid collar on them.”

Petrichor allowed herself the tiniest of smiles as her Mistress crossed her arms, and answered the patronizing tone with one of authority. “Either accept my business now, or I will go somewhere else where they will take my money.”

Being here was still horrible, but it bore no comparison to last time. 

She had been freshly ‘caught’ by Fraxis the night before and even though she had spent much of the evening pleasing him, he spent the rest of that night … breaking her in. As he put it. 

She had been brought here still beaten and bloody in a tiny cage, she remembered the clunk sound the metal cage had made on these stones. This very man, although Petrichor doubted very much that he remembered her, had been the one to drag her bound and panicking from the cage.

He had laughed as she struggled, then threw her onto the broad wooden table that she could see out of the corner of her eye. The leather straps that dangled there now, had held her down, digging into her bruised flesh as she cried. Fraxis had been angry when her fur was singed, but only because he didn’t want there to be a burn mark.

This man had laughed and slapped the ass that was covered in welts before saying, “A little burnt fur never hurt a pet!” As he had welded the collar in place he had teased her new Master about what a fine pet he had acquired, was only half joking when he suggested that her Master let him use her after he was done. 

Her Master had given a laugh of his own before saying that he had more breaking in to do before it could be loaned out.

Fraxis had enjoyed the ‘breaking in period’ as he called it, and told her so often.

It seemed Mistress had finally gotten this man to listen to her and Petrichor was led over to the table. She laid down on her stomach, it only made sense that that would be what was required. As the man reached for the straps, her Mistress cut in.

“Those won’t be necessary.” 

He grumbled, but Petrichors keen ears picked up his complaining about soft touch owners who coddled their pets, and were difficult customers. There was some sort of leather shield placed around the collar to protect her fur, and something else slipped under the tiny space between her collar and skin. It restricted her breathing just a bit, but she closed her eyes and focused on the beautiful kind face of her Mistress as this man moved around her.

Her next inhalation told her that the last pet to be collared on this table had been a large male, and very afraid. She spared a moment of pity for that pet as she heard a loud powerful whine from behind her.Petrichor not jerking in surprise, but then closed her eyes again and reminded herself to control her breathing. 

The noise of the machine cutting through the metal that encircled her neck was torturously loud. 

Breathe.

Slow.

Steady.

The smell of hot metal nearly stole her reason again, but her Mistresses words came back to her.

It will be okay.

It will be okay.

Fortunately it didn’t take the man long to cut through the band at the two points required. Petrichor almost smiled when her Mistress suddenly remembered that she should order Petrichor back to her side. 

The rest of the walk home didn’t matter. Petrichor would not have been at all surprised to discover that she could fly. She felt so light, so wonderful. As they walked she fingered the slight scar that the metal had caused just above her collar bones. 

When they were home, her Mistress flopped onto a couch and put her hand over her face. “Well that was really awful, and I can’t even imagine what it was like for you.” 

Petrichor only shook her head and smiled, then sat down on the floor and leaned against the couch. Boldly she leaned the top of her head into her Mistresses palm, then sighed dramatically as fingers worked their way gently through her hair. If her Mistress wanted her to be a companion she could do that. 

If she didn’t like it she could leave.

But right now leaving seemed very foolish when she felt this comfortable. Maybe the comfort was a trap. Maybe she should just run. Right now though, she just wanted this peace.

Her Mistress spoke dreamily, “Mmm your hair is so lovely. Would you mind if I braid it?” 

Petrichor shrugged internally, then shook her head. Her Mistress sat up on the couch and methodically ran her fingers through the hair that came down to her shoulders when left to its own devices. When she had accomplished a loose braid, her Mistress took the tie from her own hair to secure Petrichors. All of this attention really was going to go to Petrichors head.

“Petrichor?”

“Mm?” She tilted her head up to look at her Mistress, then grinned at the sight of her being upside down.

Her Mistress smiled back. “You seem like the type who would enjoy reading and I happen to have a few books. 

I also have painting supplies if you want to try that. My attempts at painting are quite dismal, and I'm sure the bushes would enjoy the break from my abuse.” 

Petrichor thought carefully about her answer, she had to get this right, “Books sound lovely Flory.” She was so proud that she had not even stumbled over her Mistresses name. 

The smile her Mistress gave her as she beamed down at Petrichor made this entire day worth it. It was so good to know that she had pleased her Mistress so thoroughly. As they walked to a different part of the house that Petrichor had not had a chance to explore yet, she mused that previously pleasing a lady that much had involved using her. 

She wondered why her Mistress didn’t seem to want her like that. Perhaps she found Petrichor repulsive for her muddy coloring. But no, that made no sense. She had said Petrichor looked cute and pretty, and she didn’t seem the type to lie about something like that.

So she would just have to settle for her Mistress not wanting to use her for some unknown reason. Was that really so bad? Petrichor would have liked to show her Mistress how good she could make her feel. It would be nice to give pleasure to someone, who only ever seemed to shower her in gifts.

Well it seemed like for now such confusing happy thoughts would stay a daydream. 

They reached a set of double doors down the hallway from the bedroom, her Mistress gripped the handles and pushed them wide before Petrichor. 

It was more books than Petrichor had ever dreamt existed, sure she knew this many books must exist, but she never imagined that someone would put so many in one place. As the late afternoon sun streamed in the window Petrichor thought she might have actually found paradise.

“The light is perfect in here, while you get settled in, I am going to grab my painting supplies.”

It felt strange to be left unattended in a room with so many probably very valuable objects, some of the books looked very old indeed. But it was difficult to keep thinking about the stangness as she bounded to the nearest shelf and started looking through titles. This section seemed to be all about myths, legends, and tales of heroes that never existed but were all the more entertaining for it.

By the time she had selected several interesting looking tomes, her Mistress had put a long apron like thing over her dress and rolled up her sleeves. She was apparently attempting to paint a bowl of fruit set out on a table with a fancy little gold watch on a chain to catch the sunlight. Petrichor smiled as she watched her Mistress chew the end of her brush thoughtfully, apparently the joke about abusing her brushes had been litteral. Then she found a giant squashy looking armchair nearby and curled up with her tail around her to read. 

They sat in companionable silence for sometime. Petrichor was so lost in the tale of a fire breathing lion that made friends with a water elemental while they were both lost in a desert, that she nearly jumped out of her skin when there was a gentle knock on one of the nearby bookcases. 

Her Mistress looked up at the man Petricor had seen for a few moments this morning. 

“Ah! Alken! Perfect timing. Petrichor this is Alken, Alken this is Pretichor. He is my cook, without whom I would shurley starve.”

Alken ignored Petichors bashful blush and waved genially, “Miss, I came to see what you felt like for dinner.” 

Mistress tapped her lip thoughtfully with the brush. The streak of paint over one cheekbone looked like the warrior from the book a few pages back. 

“Hmm, Petrichor seems to mostly enjoy meat based food, and I am fairly certain she has not had a chance to acquire any preferences. Why don’t you surprise us?” Her Mistress suggested brightly. Petrichor tried not to sink even further down into the chair as her Mistress talked about her. Thankfully Alken left immediately.

“He will come and get us when dinner is finished. In the meantime, what do you think?” Her Mistress stepped back and gestured with the abused brush.

Petrichor squinted at her Mistress' hard work, she couldn’t really see the subject in question behind the canvas so she had nothing to compare it to.

“Is it uh … supposed to look moldy?” Dammit, that was definitely not the right thing to say, her collar must have been linked to some critical brain function that kept her from saying the absolute worst thing to her owner.

Her fears were not allayed when her Mistress put a fist on each hip and purser her lips to one side of her face. 

“No. But honestly that is a fair point.” Her Mistress was insane. That was the obvious and only logical answer. Fortunately for Petrichor, this insanity apparently manifested in the pleasant sociable sort of derangement. But what was a pet to do when their Mistress was completely mad?

This question would go unanswered as her Mistress took off the apron to lean against the armchair, and look over Petrichors shoulder at the book she had been reading. The rest of the time until dinner was taken up with Petrichor and her Mistress talking about what she had read so far, and what all of it had probably meant to the people who created the myth in the first place. 

As she ate her dinner Petrichor reflected on how she might run away tomorrow. But for right now, dinner was delicious, and she had her comfortable den next to the window to look forward to. 

Yes, she might run away tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first words of the next chapter are, "Over the next several days" XD


End file.
